


Charah Versus the Fundraising

by downriversandroads



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas AU, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, F/M, First Dates, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downriversandroads/pseuds/downriversandroads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the fourth (4th) prompt here: http://gabrielthetricksterarchangel.tumblr.com/post/133896925712/christmas-au-prompts</p><p>Just a fluffy Christmas AU in which Sarah works at a library and Chuck is a regular customer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters or any part of the show, Chuck. This is NOT written for profit.

“Hey, Sarah,” Chuck Bartowski cheerfully greeted the librarian, a grin lighting up his handsome features.

  
“Hi, Chuck. What can I do for you today?” Sarah Walker asked amiably. She was used to seeing the computer technician at the library every day, since he liked to read up on the latest in, well, everything, it seemed. He’d been a regular since she started working here a few months ago to help pay her dad’s bills. And, if Sarah was being honest with herself, Chuck was her favorite patron.

  
“Oh, the usual. I’m just checking out some more books and CDs.” He unloaded what he’d collected in his arms onto the counter. Today he had some comics, a Nina Simone CD, an Arcade Fire album, and _Russian for Dummies_.

  
“Ooh, it looks like you’ve got some interesting stuff today. Why the Russian?” Sarah asked, starting to scan the items.

  
“I’ve been picking up some new languages recently, and I’m hoping to visit Russia someday, so I thought, ‘Why not learn Russian next?’” He paused. “That sounds kind of stupid, doesn’t it?” He wrinkled his nose, eyebrows furrowing.

  
“No, of course not, Chuck. You pick up things really quickly; I bet Russian will be no problem. And I’ve been to Russia, and it is amazing. I’m sure you’ll make it there someday and you’ll love it.” The librarian gave him a reassuring smile, making his heart flutter. Their eye contact was held for longer than was necessary, and eventually Chuck cleared his throat and his eyes darted down toward his hands, which held his library card. He handed it over, and when he looked at Sarah again, he saw that her cheeks were slightly flushed and she was smiling, subtly enough that a stranger wouldn’t have noticed, but genuinely, so that it reached her eyes.

  
While she was swiping his card, he gathered up every last ounce of courage in his body, screwed his eyes shut, and blurted out, “Sarah, would you like to go for coffee or dinner or- or, um, something sometime?” He managed to open his eyes to gauge her reaction, which seemed to be mixed. Her eyebrows were slightly raised and her eyes had widened a fraction, but she seemed to be actually thinking about her answer, so he guessed he wouldn’t get an outright rejection. Unless she was thinking about how to let him down easily. Chuck was already regretting opening his big mouth, though, especially when a small smirk lit up Sarah’s face.

  
The librarian leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, her elbows on the marble counter. She sighed dramatically, a playful twinkle in her eyes, and replied, “Here’s the thing, Chuck. I’m really passionate about foster kids.” Chuck’s eyebrows leapt up, unsure of the connection. Sarah pointed to the sign next to her, which screamed, “BUY CHRISTMAS TREES TO HELP THE LOCAL CHILDREN’S SHELTER!” in red and green letters. “So can I make a deal with you?” She continued without waiting for confirmation from Chuck: “You buy a Christmas tree and help out these poor kids, and I’ll go on a date with you.”

  
Chuck pulled out his wallet. “Anything for you,” he laughed. He handed her enough money to buy two Christmas trees (it was a genuinely good cause, after all) and looked at her with new appreciation. She gave him a glowing, satisfied grin, and said, “How about we go out to dinner at El Compadre and then afterwards we can go to the shooting range?”

  
Chuck’s mouth fell open, and Sarah cocked an eyebrow, and said, “What? I need to let off steam after being cooped up in a library all day. I go to the shooting range every day after I get off work.”

  
Chuck managed to regain enough composure to say, “Yeah, that sounds great,” and even though this didn’t sound like a typical first date, he really was looking forward to it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck and Sarah go on their date to El Compadre. Lots of fluff. Mostly from Sarah's PoV but Chuck's is also thrown in there too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated!! xo
> 
> I just felt like writing something, and someone had commented on the first chapter of this fic that I should continue, so here we are! I didn't read over this before posting, which is SO unlike me, so sorry if this is really bad or OOC or something. I'm a tired college student heading into finals week.
> 
> Up next: the shooting range
> 
> I'm always ready to talk: downriversandroads.tumblr.com

Chuck ended up wandering over to a table at the library and poring over his comic books, waiting for Sarah’s shift to end. Every so often, Sarah would look over at him and observe him fondly; then she would catch herself doing so and her cheeks would heat up a little in embarrassment, as close to blushing as she ever got. _Sarah Walker does not people watch. What are you thinking?_ But she liked seeing him so enthralled in something, his eyes darting across the page, his face clearly displaying his reactions to the story.

Sarah never understood why people got so involved in fiction. She knew a lot of it was escapism, which was all well and good, but Sarah always faced her problems head on; why delay reality with fiction, when it wasn’t going to fix anything? Of course, this clashed enormously with her finely tuned ability to ignore her emotions. Not wanting to wander further down that rabbit hole, she turned back to her computer and continued her work.

Finally, the clock struck five o’clock and Sarah gathered her things and strode over to Chuck’s table. Chuck was stacking his books and music, checking his pockets for his phone and keys before he stood up. His lanky build had been folded up in a child’s chair for an hour, so when he rose, his face twisted in what was best described as a grimace-smile. (Sarah was trying not to smile too broadly at the expression Chuck had been making, but her smiles came naturally and unbidden when she was around Chuck.) But when Chuck glanced up at the woman approaching him, his face melted into a relaxed grin.

“You ready to go?” Sarah asked.

“I was born ready,” he grinned. Seeming to reconsider, he added, “Well, I wasn’t born ready, but I’m ready now.” He nodded almost imperceptibly, as if trying to reassure himself.

Sarah just replied with a slight smirk that she tried to tamp down, refusing to reveal that she was so easily charmed by his unconventional humor. They headed out the door, Sarah leading the way to her black Lotus. (Chuck walked to the library every day from the electronics store that he worked at.)

The warm air that embraced them was a welcome change for Sarah, who worked in the freezing library. She couldn’t believe that Burbank was so warm in December. Even though she had grown up mostly in the western United States, she had gotten accustomed to Washington, D.C.’s colder climate.

When Chuck set eyes on the Lotus, directed by Sarah’s “Here’s our ride,” he looked ready to question her choice of vehicle, his eyebrows jumping higher on his forehead, his mouth opening slightly, but then seemed to think better of it, an amused smile replacing his surprised expression.

“You are an intriguing woman, Sarah Walker.”

Sarah let out a surprised huff at that, opting to slide in the driver’s seat rather than try to respond to the remark. (She didn’t want to reveal how it elicited a fluttery feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t quite remember ever having before.) Chuck crouched down and got in the passenger’s side, looking around the car a little while Sarah started the car and steered it toward the exit of the parking lot.

Noticing the lack of CDs, Chuck asked, “Do you listen to the radio a lot?”

She seemed confused, so Chuck elaborated (while silently berating himself: _Smooth, Bartowski_ ): “I have like 20 CDs in my car at all times, so I assumed that since you didn’t… have CDs… you probably listened to the radio while you drove…?” As his sentence went on, he started trailing off, his voice getting higher until his explanation turned into a question, while he watched Sarah’s expression closely. She had her eyes on the road, but she looked puzzled and a little sheepish.

“Uh, I don’t really listen to that much music, actually.”

“No, no, no. You have to at least have a favorite band. Please, for the love of all that is holy, tell me you have a favorite band.”

Hearing the indignation, shock, and concern for her sanity in Chuck’s teasing, Sarah’s eyes darted to look at him, amused but bewildered, then back at the road. “I don’t have that much time to listen to music. The library frowns upon its staff wearing headphones while we’re working, and my other job doesn’t give me down time.”

“Wow. Well, we’ll have to remedy that, won’t we?” Chuck grinned playfully and reached out to fiddle with the radio, settling on a station that sounded like indie rock, maybe? Sarah’s inexperienced ears couldn’t tell. He turned down the volume so they could still talk, looking over and saying, “You never have mentioned your other job. What do you do?”

Sarah pulled into a parking space closest to El Compadre, parked, and directed a serious gaze at him, deadpanning, “If I told you that, then I’d have to kill you, Mr. Bartowski.”

Chuck laughed, his eyes lighting up, and Sarah winked and got out of the car, pleased that she could make him laugh like that. She’s never considered herself a particularly funny person, and her last boyfriend had a different brand of humor than her and Chuck.

 They entered the restaurant, their eyes adjusting to the slightly darker atmosphere, and once they sat at a table, Chuck prodded, “Really, though. I feel like you know more about me than I do about you. We have to level the playing field. If you don’t want to talk about your job, which I totally get, by the way, you don’t have to.” He smiled encouragingly, sensing her hesitance.

Sarah still wasn’t sure what to say, but she started speaking anyway. “Well, I moved here about six months ago and I’m really liking L.A. I used to live in Washington, D.C., so the only huge difference is the weather, I guess.” She stopped, not wanting to bring up the reason why she moved. Trying to divert the conversation, she asked, “Have you always lived in Burbank?”

The waiter walked up, took their orders, and then after they had thanked him, Chuck answered, “Yeah, I have. My sister, Ellie, and I were both born here and haven’t left since. I mean, technically, we were born in Encino, but, uh, what’s the difference, right?” He chuckled nervously and then cleared his throat. “Why did you move to L.A.?”

Sarah sighed internally but didn’t let her face show her reluctance. “My boyfriend-” Sarah almost laughed at Chuck’s eyes widening a little at the mention of a boyfriend- “Bryce and I broke up.” Chuck frowned, expressing sympathy, so Sarah continued, “It was more of a mutual thing. Our career paths went different ways, so we broke it off. Anyway, we had mostly the same friends and since we lived together, I was going to have to get a new place anyway, so I decided to just pick up and move across the country!”

Their waiter came back with their food and drinks and then Sarah sipped her drink, playfully maintaining eye contact with him, and said, “What about you, Chuck? Have you got any skeletons in your closet?”

Chuck glanced down at his food before answering, pausing to consider his answer. He huffed out a laugh, looking across the table at Sarah, saying, “I don’t really date that much. I dated this girl back at Stanford, but uh, it didn’t end too well.” He averted his gaze, but he had the ghost of a smile, albeit a resigned one. Then he brightened and asked, “Where did you go to college?”

“I went to UC Berkeley. I majored in Linguistics and minored in International and Area Studies.”

He raised his eyebrows, chuckling, “You know, that answer just makes me even more eager to find out what exactly it is you do for a living. For all I know, you could be an assassin sent to kill me. Or maybe you’re a cannibal. Really, those are the two things that could explain your being so secretive and your being single. I mean, come on. You are a smart, funny, beautiful woman who also loves to go to the shooting range after work.”

While he complimented her, she took him all in: the genuineness that opened up his face, hiding no secrets; the way his eyes lit up when he was talking; his brown curls that were messy enough to be cute, but not unruly. Sarah felt that telltale fluttery feeling in her stomach again.

She hummed, trying to deflect the compliment slightly and not reveal how good it felt to hear his praise. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself, Chuck.”


End file.
